BA3 - Chapter 32

I awoke refreshed from Sung-ki’s dreamless potion, but an immediate sense of dread filled in the cracks of my mind. Thoughts of failure, death, and worse swarmed like angry ants with their colony on fire. Mae helped me meditate, providing a calming chime to focus my attention on, but even after I was restless.

Cho was frightened, too, and what kind of madman wouldn’t be? We were hours away from executing a delicate plan, with many points for failure and even more assumptions. What kind of retaliation was in store for us?

I carried out my kitchen duties with deliberate movements to keep my mind off things I couldn’t control. We had planned as best we could for every circumstance we could think of, and even then, had a backup plan. There was more than one way out of Kokyu, and we were ready.

That affirmation felt like a lie. How could we be ready for what we were about to do?

We ate breakfast with plastic smiles and false excitement. Cleaning up was even more dreadful because that meant we were only an hour away from departure. I ran down the mental checklist again and again to ensure I’d done everything I could, and then I reviewed the schedule.

“We can do this,” Mae said to me when I’d reviewed my duties for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘What are the chances this all goes the way we’ve planned?’

She guffawed. “Oh, next to none. But, with your stupid luck, the likelihood we’ll be successful with few casualties—do you really want to know?”

I swallowed hard. ‘I suppose I don’t… do you believe in us?’

“I trust you.”

‘That’s not the same thing,’ I reminded her.

“It’s all I need.”

Her words struck me, and my heart ached. ‘You will ignore the odds and charge ahead because you trust me?’

“Dokun has hurt us a hundred times already. He’ll do it a thousand times more if he’s allowed to take power. Stopping him is the right thing to do, and if you’re ready to die for that, I trust you, and I’m ready, too.”

I sighed out a deep breath. Was I ready to die? No, of course not. But was I willing to if it meant protecting everyone he would subjugate, including my family? Yes.

“And, you know, I don’t really have a choice since I have to go where you go.” Her likeness appeared in my vision, grinning sarcastically. “But let’s try not to die, okay?”

I grinned. ‘I’ll do my best.’

A gong rang out from the front gate, jolting me back to the present. The Anbura students ran to the door with smiles on their faces. They had no idea what awaited them at the performance, but with a little luck, we could prevent it and reveal the truth.

Hana strolled through the kitchen with a kind smile, looping her arm in mine. “Ready?”

I nodded. “Very.”

We strolled toward the entrance, Hana’s fingers tight at the crook of my elbow. I flexed my bicep twice and she looked up to me, then loosened her grip with a sigh. I was scared just the same but knew that fear wouldn’t serve me in the face of uncertainty. We had to be calm. We had to be rational. And most of all, we had to trust each other.

I wasn’t prepared for the sight beyond the front doors, which gave me pause. Twenty Enjiho stood at attention, facing the school. They were all marked with two red bands across their shoulder that lead to a star. Mae had been documenting the different Enjiho we’d seen, and we’d never encountered these. They must’ve been a special design, or perhaps elite machina users on the other end[JH1] . Whatever they were, they could be a wrinkle in the plan.

When all four hundred of the Anbura students, and the twenty Bastions, had gathered, the Enjiho led us down the hill where a line of ground transport waited to ferry us to the train station—as before. I took note of the controls the driver had, how many seats to each vehicle, how many openings and where they were. Cho had already gone over this a multitude of times I was sure, since he would oversee the first leg of the escape operation, but still, I felt myself compulsively going over the details.

We were transported in waves to the train depot, until finally, we were in the air and on our way to the heart of Kokyu. The Kobayashi Performance Hall was just a kilometer away from the Enjiho refueling and control station we would use, putting us perfectly center of the six control devices planted around the city.

“Stop it. You’re making me nauseous with this obsessive repetition,” Mae whispered playfully.

I made idle chatter with my friends to stop my rampant thoughts. No code words, or plan talks, just friendly banter. It kept my mind busy and away from the ebbing anxiety, until we landed in the Yoki district, not far from the performance hall.

Dokun waited for us on the platform, a broad smile lighting his eyes. He was flanked by two Enjiho, these similarly marked with the red strips and a star. The students bounded out of the train and Dokun welcomed them all but waited for me.

When I’d caught up to him, Hana still clutching my arm, he scowled. “You look dreadful. Everything alright at school?”

“Just a little homesick—and nightmares from the luau,” I said, truthfully. Getting dragged through dozens of meters of dark water had been one of the most terrifying experiences, and it still lingered with me.

He nodded. “Understandable. Let’s make this a bright night to blot out that darkness, shall we?”

I smiled and hummed approval. Dokun walked at my other side as the Enjiho lead us from the train depot. It unnerved me being so close to him, but I keep a smile on my face and an extra protective layer of ry wrapped around my mind. It wasn’t hard to forget our predicament when we emerged onto the city street.

I’d seen glimpses of the Yoki district as I’d done my work with TuTu_tk, but to see it in full color from the ground instead of the sky, it was a wonder. The buildings towered high overhead, glinting with the mid-morning sun and dressed in ry displays. Angled gardens lined the tiered buildings that narrowed into spires at the twentieth floor.

The streets glowed with neon light from the ground level shops, and transports buzzed about just a few meters overhead. It smelled of all the best foods—fresh baked pastries, savory soups, and sweet and sour shaved ice.

We walked on foot for a few blocks. Dokun asked about our favorite experiences so far, and favorite foods, which put me at ease and allowed me to act like a nephew. We talked about Hana’s love of noodles, my love of donuts, and Yuri—having heard us talking about food—was quick to join in with her favorites. Cho and Shin-soo even mentioned what they’d liked best about the trip, and for once, I felt like a student on an exchange trip.

“So, this is your gang?” Dokun asked, waving a hand between my friends.

My heart skipped a beat, and I cocked my head. “Gang?”

He scowled. “Perhaps that’s not the right word. These are your friends that helped you defeat Hiro last year, yes?”

I didn’t like the implication, nor where this conversation was headed. Why would he bring this up?

“Yes, we’re his best friends,” Hana said with a calm smile when I didn’t reply.

“How did you meet?” He asked.

Cho fell into step beside Dokun. “I met him in line for our entrance exam. He was so cold and quiet, I thought he didn’t like me. But then we met again at school when we were accepted.”

Dokun nodded. “And you study together?”

“Yes, exactly. Jiyong helped me with my zo training first year, and I helped him with li. He was terrible with it—and not much better now,” Cho said with a chuckle and we all laughed.

“I helped with en,” Yuri said raising her hand enthusiastically.

“And you?” Dokun asked looking to Shin-soo.

He shrugged and turned his face up. “I’m not really with them.”

The ease sense of conversation departed as I realized what Dokun was doing. He was prodding our group for weakness, and discovering our strengths, and we were giving it all away so easily. How had he lured us into this conversation? I had to steer us away from this dangerous investigation.

Dokun bobbed his head. “And Hana? You and Jiyong seem inseparable.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she chuckled, blushing.

The Kobayashi Performance Hall came into view ahead and I stood on my toes to see it past the tall shoulders of the Enjiho. It was not nearly as tall as the surrounding buildings, but at least twice as wide. The front was made almost entirely of glass with few metal support beams, similar to Dokun’s building—which provided the necessary distraction from the subject.

“We’re almost there,” I said, pointing to the building. Hana looked down, as if stricken by guilt, but I knew she would understand when I explained later.

We arrived at the grand glass hall and were invited inside by men and women in black dress suits. They took our coats and showed us through to the reception room. The ceiling was the first thing I noticed. It was at least four stories high, dancing with brilliant colored light and softly falling snow. I held out my hand to catch a flake, but it disappeared before reaching me.

“Spell enchanted,” Dokun said with amusement. “This is just the beginning of the performance.”

“Cho-binbin?” a high-pitched squeal came from across the crowded room.

Cho straightened, a look of bewilderment on his face as he searched for the source—his sister Zari. Her elegant silken dress flowed like water as she walked toward us on tall wooden shoes.

The silk was like a piece of art, showing a wonderous winter scene deep in the mountains. Mist clung to the tops of deep green, snow dusted pine trees, and swirling clouds climbed up her hips. Her chest was an aurora of brilliant color, and a shawl that seemed to be made of snow hung over her shoulders.

Cho grinned at his big sister and took her offered hand. “You look lovely.”

“Isn’t it just beautiful?” she exclaimed, pulling on the gown. “I’m going to tell the Grandmaster of the Silver Dragonfly about these dresses—they’re just incredible. Oh, who’s this?” she asked, looking to Dokun.

I dipped my head. “This is my great-uncle, Dokun Yamamotto.”

“I’ve heard of you,” she said with an excited grin. “You’re the one bringing Kokyu out of the dark ages with your machina.”

Dokun smiled. “Yes, that’s me.”

A gentle chime rang out overhead and Zari jumped. “Almost time to get ready. Oh, Cho-bin, do you want to see backstage? I bet I could sneak you and your friends in to see all these beautiful dresses for a moment.”

“I’d like to,” Hana said, real excitement in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that spoil the show?” Dokun asked, his face stoic.

“Just a quick peek won’t hurt anything. The magic is in the dancing, anyway. Come on,” she offered Hana her arm.

Hana took it and kept her other hand locked tightly at my elbow. “Just a few minutes?”

I looked to Dokun with resignation. “We’ll be brief.”

He nodded me off and with that, Zari led us away on her tall shoes. We kept smiles on our faces as she wound down through the narrow passages. Square lanterns with cherry blossom patterns lit the way down the stairs to the stage where a massive red curtain hung stories high.

Stagehands dressed in tight black suites moved about with props, weapons, and massive colorful fans. Spotlights on the floor lit the spots where the stagehands arranged the dancer’s tools. It felt like pure chaos with bodies weaving in and out of one another, but they never collided.

Zari led us across the stage to the side where another tall, black curtain obscured the back. We passed through the thick cloth to an eruption of sound. If the stage had been graceful chaos, this was angry madness.

Row upon row of mirrored desks sat back-to-back, littered with various boxes of powder and vials of perfume. Bright bulbs protruded from around the mirror, lighting men and women as they leaned in to apply their finishing touches. Performers yelled to their assistants to help with garments, wigs, jewelry, and shoes. Others argued over missing make-up, and some simply panicked for the coming performance.

No one weaved around us as we walked through the rows, and on more than one occasion I bumped shoulders with a dancer, or assistant with a hurried apology. We approached a dressing room flanked by a willowy man in silver, and another woman in purple.

“Gan-mei, Chiho, come meet my little brother and his friends,” Zari said with a bright tone as we passed them into the room.

Everything went silent when I stepped through the door and I looked back to see a gentle purple shimmer around it. Someone had cast an impressive ry noise barrier. The carpet here was fluffy, almost like standing on a pillow, and a deep red. The walls were black and gold, with more of the stunning paper lanterns lighting it.

Ko-nah sat at the center of the room in meditation, purple ry munje swirling around him like a vortex. He opened his eyes when I approached and the munje receded into his body.

“Took you long enough,” he said with a scowl.

“Dokun has us pinned down, but Zari handled it well,” I said with a smile to the older girl. She bowed in reply.

“Well,” Ko-nah groaned as he came to his feet. “Are you ready to do this, or what?”

I grimaced. “I still don’t like this idea.”

“Why, you think I can’t pull it off?” He challenged. It was that same high-and-mighty attitude as when we worked together at Bastion, and I hated it.

“No, I think you spent enough time in my head to know how I act,” I fired back.

He scowled, then cracked a smile and imitated me. “I’m a poor boy from outer-city, but I don’t follow the stereotype of never asking for help, or overachieving to prove my worth, or—”

“Ko-nah!” Hana roared and he fell silent. “We get it. You’re the smartest one of us all and only you can pull this off. Can we move on?”

He smirked, turning his head up. “Good of someone to finally notice.”

Gan-mei cleared his throat. “Are you boys done measuring? We have a performance to get to.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Yeah. Let’s get it over with.”